


This Isn't a Love Triangle

by Diary



Category: Scandal (TV)
Genre: Awkwardness, Bechdel Test Fail, Canon Character of Color, Canon Gay Character, Canon Queer Character, Dark Character, Developing Relationship, Family, Getting Together, Late Night Conversations, Love, M/M, Male Friendship, Morally Ambiguous Character, POV Cyrus Beene, POV Male Character, POV Queer Character, Post-Season/Series 04 AU, Romance, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-27 01:12:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9943742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diary/pseuds/Diary
Summary: An AU look at Cyrus/Tom and Cyrus&Michael during seasons 5 and 6. Complete.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Scandal.

Yawning, Cyrus looks down at his watch.

He and Tom have hammered out the details of Vargas’s latest debate against Susan to the last detail.

Briefly, he wonders if showing up at the Vargas’s for dinner or calling Liv for a renewal of their popcorn and wine dates are feasible options. He has the right to stay in the suite for as long he wants due to the fact he’s paying for it and Tom is the guest, but the last thing he needs is to put a damper on any genuine loyalty to the job or to he himself Tom might have.

Suddenly, he realises- “A shower.”

The fact Tom’s only reaction is a vaguely confused look makes Cyrus wonder if Cyrus himself is one of the most or least quirk-filled people Tom has found himself dealing with over the years. He wonders if Tom misses having to deal with Fitz and Olivia, if Tom liked or disliked working for Ballard, and if Rowan came across as terrifyingly insane to Tom as he always has to Cyrus.

“I’m going to take a shower before I go home,” he explains.

“Okay. Other than that, are we done for the night, sir?”

“Yes."

…

After thirty minutes, he’s turned the hot water tab as far as it will go, practically turned the cold water tab completely off, and is forced to concede his body has thoroughly adjusted and will now only register the water as room temperature.

Exhaling in defeat, he gets out, dries off, and redresses.

Leaving the bathroom, he finds a shirtless Tom sitting on the bed and watching some Western.

“Goodnight, Tom.”

Tom doesn’t answer until Cyrus is about to open the door. “President Grant used to do that, too, back when he was Governor. Before Ms Pope came into the picture, when he didn’t want to go home to Mrs Grant, he’d take long showers, stop at 24-hour diners and talk to servers, other patrons, even the cooks and owners, sometimes, and a million other things. He could always find something else to do.”

“First, it’s none of your business,” Cyrus tiredly says. “Secondly, if there’s some implication I’m having an affair in there, I’m not.”

“Neither was he,” is the calm reply. “Is Michael Ambruso?”

“Watch it, Tom."

…

When he gets home, he finds Ella sound asleep in her bedroom and is, therefore, unsurprised when he gets to his room and finds Michael in his bed.

Michael doesn’t like sleeping alone, and shortly after the wedding, when it became clear the newfound peace between them could and would hold, Cyrus had offered to share his bed.

Most of the time, he doesn’t regret this. They’re both heavy sleepers, Cyrus is more likely to steal the sheets and hog the pillows than Michael is, and when Ella’s older, this might help dispel any lingering questions she has but hasn’t verbalised. When Michael first moved in, they both tried to make sure she didn’t know anything about the photos (he fears the day she manages to get unsupervised internet access). They told her Michael wouldn’t sleep in his room until they were married, and after they were, they told her they usually needed to sleep at different times and didn’t want to keep the person who needed sleep awake during these times.

Hopefully, when she’s older, she’ll believe they really did fall in love, had separate rooms due to trying set a proper (antiquated) example, and went through some trial-and-error as a newly wedded couple. They’ll simply be her dad and stepdad, two not-quite normal men who nevertheless are a happy, healthy couple who love her.

Stripping down to his boxers and putting on a fresh undershirt, he slips into bed, and his hope Michael is sound asleep are dashed by a soft, “Hey.”

“Hey. How was study group?”

“Mm.” Michael wiggles closer. “Good. Sam and I only almost came to blows once.”

“Progress indeed.”

“Yeah.” Through the dark, Cyrus can vaguely make out a frown on Michael’s face. Bringing a hand up to Cyrus’s damp hair, Michael asks, “You took a shower before coming home?”

“Yes.”

Through the silence, he realises Michael is expecting more.

He’s too tired to comply.

“Goodnight, Michael.”

Pressing closer against him, Michael responds, “Night, Cy.”

…

Sam Tavern is in one of Michael’s economic classes. He and Michael both have a tremendous respect for one another and a determination to one-up the other in establishing why their chosen economic theorist is better than the hack the other insists on championing.

In between the mutual respect and debates-turned-murder-attempts, they’re touchy-feely and steal soft-eyed glances at one another.

Cyrus doesn’t know if they’re sleeping together, but he knows they _will_ , eventually.

This is fine.

Unlike with James, where Cyrus held tightly to the vows of love and fidelity he made, because, making a life with James was something he desperately wanted and needed to do, this marriage is a legal contract, and he and Michael are both obeying the terms. Even if he knew for sure Michael and Sam had already started sleeping together, the answer to Tom’s question would still be, ‘No.’

“Hey, um, if you’re working late tonight, maybe I could drop some clothes and stuff off at headquarters,” Michael offers.

He sets plate down in front of Cyrus.

“This looks amazing,” Cyrus declares. “Uh, no, that won’t be necessary. I’ve been meeting an outside contractor. From now on, I’ll try to leave before I get so tired. I imagine he wasn’t happy about me commandeering his shower, but he and I both would have been less happy about me taking residence on his couch for the night.”

Laughing slightly, Michael says, “Three of us. From now on, though, if you need me to come pick you up, it wouldn’t be a problem.”

“Don’t worry. Until Frankie’s elected, I’m not going to risk my health any more than necessary. Although, if he screws up the debate tomorrow-”

“Ella and Ana have made it clear to him he needs to win for their sakes. He’s not going to screw it up, Cy,” Michael assures him.

…

Thankfully, the next Friday, plans need to be discussed for how to handle Liv’s latest tactics, and by the time he and Tom are done, he’s relatively sure Michael’s study group will be gone when he gets home.

“You didn’t have him killed,” Tom suddenly says.

Cyrus looks up from packing his briefcase.

“After the pictures came out, you didn’t have him killed.”

“You had to deal with Rowan, I had to deal with his daughter,” Cyrus replies. “Besides, it’s not as if it would have done any good. His best option was me, and I was in the position to offer or deny him that. I could have taken Ella, gone somewhere relatively anonymous, and lived comfortably. I either wanted to punish him, or I wanted to forget he even existed, depending on the day, and I did both. But we’ve come to a better place where we’re both benefiting. Without him, I wouldn’t be in the position to make the next President of the United States.”

“It getting out he’s having an affair could cause-”

“Tom.” Feeling the anger drain, Cyrus takes a steadying breath. “Michael is smart enough to be discreet. And if he isn’t, I already have plans to throw him under the bus.”

Tom stares intently at him. “If you don’t care, why are you avoiding going home? And if you do care, why are you willing to let him-”

“He and I aren’t married. We signed a certificate, and as such, the law recognises us as a legally married couple. We said some vows neither of us meant in front of other people. I don’t love him, and he doesn’t love me. I just-”

He laughs.

“Why am I talking to you about this? B6-13 doesn’t allow relationships. You having one-night stands or arrangements with certain people along the lines of, ‘if I’m in town, and you’re not serious with anyone’- Well, at least, your fall didn’t have anything to do with you personally making a stupid mistake involving some woman.”

“I watched a man I respected, admired, and wanted so badly to touch marry another person.”

The words are delivered in Tom’s usual calm, even tone, and it takes a few seconds for Cyrus to process them. When he does, he finds himself gaping.

“For years, I had to watch them be in love and happy together. Every time they were both around, I wondered what I was going to do if some threat happened and I was forced into protecting the person, this civilian, who had what I wanted so badly.”

“The marriage didn’t last,” Tom continues. “And this man- he knows I exist. However, he’s too blind to see that-” Tom shakes his head. “He’s good at discerning the weaknesses of people, but when he’s the weakness, he’s blind. I suppose that’s good for me. In the past, I was a B6-13 agent, and we don’t complain or dwell when something hurts. But it does hurt.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, Tom,” Cyrus offers.

Tom nods.

“Michael is a good person. I do care about him. When our sham of a marriage ends, I want him to be happy.”

“That’s true, but it doesn’t answer the question,” Tom says.

Standing, Cyrus picks up his briefcase. “The answer is it’s none of your business. Stay out of it, Tom.”

…

Pressed against him, Michael says, “If it weren’t for Frankie, I’d be rooting for Ross.”

Nodding, Cyrus briefly glances down before looking back at the TV. “I’m just grateful for him. Mellie- we’ve always had a complicated relationship, but I don’t think she’d do anything as headache-inducing as Fitz has done. Susan, though, she’s the best Vice-President this country’s had in years.”

“When I was younger, that spot used to be reserved for our 42nd,” Michael says.

Cyrus does some mental man. “Even back then, I’d have agreed he was very handsome, but all the same, thank God, little five or six years olds will never be allowed near voting machines.”

“Did voting machines even exist back then? I thought they were all counted out by hand.”

“Oh, God,” Cyrus groans.

“Well, anyway, I liked him even after I got older and his vice-presidency ended. Sure, he had some controversial instances in his career, but- sorry, Cy, it looks like you ending up marrying Democrats or democrat-leaning people, at least, has officially become a pattern.”

Cyrus shrugs. “At this point- I desperately, desperately want a Democrat for President. He will be, if I have to break federal laws and get every little girl and boy holding a case of puppy love for Frankie snuck into voting areas. Most of them will probably automatically know how to operate voting machines better than I ever could.”

Sitting up, Michael grins at him.

Laughing, Cyrus looks away.

Warm fingers turn his face back, and Michael leans over and kisses him.

It feels so good he starts to respond before remembering-

Moving away, he orders, “Don’t.”

Ignoring whatever Michael’s saying, he quickly changes. “I’m going out.”

…

Cyrus is barely done knocking before Tom is opening the door.

Coming inside, Cyrus sees Tom has books piled neatly on the bed and a bookmarked one lying on the nightstand.

Hesitating, he considers leaving.

“Cyrus?”

“If we needed Vargas, Alex Vargas, back, what would be the best way to do that?”

Digging a bottle of water out of the fridge and handing it to him, Tom asks, “Do you?”

“Not right now, but if the press decides to latch onto the fact the once inseparable Vargas brothers are no more, that could be a problem.”

“I’m not sure about best, but the easiest would be to find evidence he’s telling the truth about his computer being hacked.”

“Best way to do that?” Cyrus sits down.

Following suit, Tom begins breaking their options down.

…

By the time a plan to potentially bring Alex back is hammered out, Cyrus’s tension has lessened enough he can stomach the idea of going back home.

Turning on his phone, he quickly reads the texts Michael sent.

“Things are escalating,” Tom notes. “When you aren’t carrying your phone in a jacket or suit pocket, you always set it near you before you sit down. You turned it off before you came here, and you didn’t want to think about it at all. So, you kept it in your pants pocket.”

As always, Cyrus is impressed, unnerved, and annoyed. Even when Tom was a boy scout Secret Service agent, he occasionally said or did something to showcase how truly observant he could be.

“I’m assuming you’ve tortured before,” Cyrus says. “From what I understand, that’s something all B6-13 agents do at some point. You killed a fifteen-year-old and who knows how many others. What’s the cruellest thing you’ve ever done, Tom?”

Tom takes a drink of his own water. “I made someone believe a child they loved was being tortured,” he quietly answers. “The child wasn’t, but to get her to betray her country, I made this person think it was the only way to save the child.”

“Hm.” Cyrus looks closely at Tom. “This isn’t meant to be cruel, but maybe it’s good you never had anything with this man you wanted. I know it hurts. But you likely would have hurt him at some point, and when it comes to anything involving sex and relationships and, especially, love, you don’t know how much it can- cripple you when you end up hurting the other person involved.”

A strange expression crosses Tom’s face.

“‘Legends are never boys. Gods were never people. Gods do not love. You know what will happen, and you do it anyway. You burn, because, this is what it means to love. This is what it means to fly. Recall the tale of Icarus. Choose to be Icarus.’ It’s a poem, much longer than that. He would have hurt me. I wouldn’t have taken it well. You and Rowan aren’t gods. I know that, but the comparison still stands: Gods can be made weak by mortals, but any mortal who thinks they can permanently tame or, even more ambitiously, kill a god is a fool who will end up hurting themselves far worse in the end.”

Cyrus considers this. “Going by this analogy, what if a god could love?”

“‘Gods do not love. You are a God. Do not love something that will someday die. I knew, but I was selfish. I am a God. It is my nature.’ A different poem, also longer. In various mythologies, there’s rarely a happily ever after when it comes to gods and mortals intertwining romantically. When it comes to gods, loving someone so fragile is an invitation for heartbreak, and a mortal can love a god, but expecting them to be able to truly comprehend the nature of one, it’s a recipe for disaster. Most gods and mortals alike took heed of this, but there were exceptions on both sides. There are a few stories of it ending well.”

Tom doesn’t continue, but Cyrus can practically hear Tom’s observations on those Tom has characterised as similar to the gods found in mythology.

“So,” Cyrus sighs. “You’d be Icarus, if you had the opportunity.”

An almost wary look settles on Tom’s face. “In the past, no. Now- yes.”

“Fair enough. Just, if you ever do find yourself getting ready to fly near the sun, tell me so that I can make sure my plans don’t end up suffering due to your relationship.”

Tom nods. “You’ll know.”

Cyrus leaves.

…

When Cyrus gets home, Michael takes Ella out to eat and ends falling asleep with her on the couch.

Cyrus turns off the TV, puts her DVD up, and leaves them both where they are.

…

“Can we talk about yesterday?”

In the living room, Ella is playing with her dolls. Vargas and his family are still in church. Despite his easy acceptance of Cyrus popping in at random times, Tom has likely gotten to a point where he’s privately despairing over the unlikeliness of being able to go a measly 24 hours without having to deal with Cyrus anytime in the near future.

Rubbing his head, Cyrus answers, “There isn’t much to talk about. Just don’t do it again, and we can both move on.”

He can see Michael hesitating.

“What do you want, Michael?”

He probably didn’t mean it however exactly Michael interpreted it, but he can tell by the subtle hurt on Michael’s face-

“Okay, look-” Moving past, he makes sure Ella isn’t within hearing distance. “Calling me ‘Satan’ was accurate.” Seeing Michael is about to interject, he says, “Let me finish.”

“I was angry and hurt, and you needed me more than I needed you. So, I made you suffer. I punished you, and I didn’t let up. I made this house into your prison, and I was going to paint you into the bad guy, likely permanently destroy your reputation, and cast you out. Because that, that is the type of person I am. It wasn’t obvious back then, but even as a kid, I had a cruel streak. I’ve done illegal, immoral things. And obviously, I can live with being this person.”

“But-” He takes a steadying breath. “The first time you came here, shortly before the pictures came out, you didn’t say no or- That doesn’t matter. We both you didn’t want it, not like that, that it hurt you, made you feel- I still did it. I- I guess I have to live with being that sort of person, too, but it’s much, much harder.”

“I’ve been with one woman, and I did love her. The truth is, I never wanted to have sex with her, but- it wasn’t traumatising. I had sex with my wife, and it was always safe. Never painful for either of us, and occasionally, it could be fun. She genuinely enjoyed it. Before her, I did some things with other men, but James was the first I was fully with.”

He laughs. “Yeah, I guess there’s another pattern. I loved James. I never betrayed our bed, I was never even tempted, and because I’m the kind of person who does hurt even the people I love, I hurt him, too, but never in such a way.”

Memories of Daniel Douglas- He realises with a pang, the above words might not be as true as he wishes they were.

“I don’t want to hurt you anymore, Michael. I don’t own you. We both entered this marriage with our eyes wide open. We’re both getting something from it, and we’re both having to give up certain things for it. If you want sex, that isn’t one of the things you have to give up, and likewise, it’s not something where it’s me or nothing.”

Thankfully, Ella calls for them, and they head to the living room.

…

At night, Michael crawls into bed, and Cyrus hopes everything will be able to go back to normal.

In the darkness, Michael says, “I asked to sleep with you.”

Curious where this is going but unwilling to turn on the light and sit up, Cyrus turns onto his side so that he’s facing Michael. He doesn’t remember Michael actually asking, just him offering, but he knows one or both of them could have a slightly different memory, and both of their memories could be somewhat inaccurate in comparison to what really happened.

“In here. I asked. People can sleep in unsafe places. They can force themselves to force to fall asleep even when they don’t feel safe. I used to all the time.” Michael sighs. “I don’t know how to take away your guilt, Cyrus, but whatever this says about me, yeah, you hurt me, and yet, I still feel safe sleeping next to you.”

This is unlikely to end well, Cyrus knows.

“I knew I was paying for sex,” he almost whispers. Turning on his back, he continues, “Maybe I let myself start to forget, but I knew. I truly believed, though, that I was also paying for privacy and discretion. I don’t care where you go, what you do, who you might be involved with, the day Ella comes in about finding those damn pictures on the internet, you will be the one dealing with her.”

“Yeah,” Michael softly agrees.

“Anything that would make a married couple having sex a story isn’t something I’d ever have any interest in anyways. I’ve put it all behind me. Uh, but the best way I can see through this is for us to both remember what I said before the wedding. We’re not going to fall in love. This marriage has an expiration date.”

Shifting into a more comfortable position, he adds, “When it comes to hurt, we’re probably never going to be even. Most likely, I caused more harm to you than you did to me. But I meant what I said. I don’t want to hurt you, anymore, and unless you hurt me again, I won’t.”

There’s a small sound from Michael. “I could say that I never meant to hurt you. It was foolish, naïve, but when I agreed to go along with Liz, and especially after I met you, I thought I could give her enough to make her happy, give me what I needed, and protect you from getting hurt by any of it. At any rate, I was desperate, and what I was doing wasn’t personal towards you.”

“I understand-” Cyrus starts.

“But saying that wouldn’t make it true. I didn’t set things up to come out about Philip. Not deliberately. I just- I decided to have a wild night, and to hell if the press found out. Part of me hoped they would. Or that you’d- I don’t know. Everything set in once I sobered up, but I- I was tired of being a prisoner, being your punching bag, being alone, everything.”

Rolling back over, Cyrus reaches out, places his hand somewhere between Michael’s chest and stomach, and feels how tense the skin is underneath the shirt. “I do understand. And you’re not any of that anymore. Okay?”

Suddenly, Michael is wrapped around him and lets out a shaky, “Okay.”

Reaching up, Cyrus threads his fingers through Michael’s hair and flexes them. “Let’s try to sleep now.”

“Okay,” is the faint agreement.

…

On Thursday night, or more accurately, at 2:53 in the morning, Cyrus’s phone rings.

Managing to extract himself from a grumbling Michael, he sits up and sees the caller id. “Tom? Since you’ve never called this late before, I assuming this is an emergency. Unlike with Ethan, no one will save you if it isn’t.”

“Half an hour ago, someone broke into Susan Ross’s house and stole her laptop, her daughter’s tablet, and a binder full of sensitive papers. This wasn’t me. After I heard, I came to the hospital where Vargas’s daughter is. Her detail’s in place, and no one’s attempted to gain access.”

“Good. Uh, was anyone hurt?”

“No, she and her daughter were over at David Rosen’s.”

“Alright, look, I’ll meet you there as soon as I can.”

Hanging up, he turns on the light and, at Michael’s groaning, says, “Sorry. And I’m sorry for this, too: You need to get up. You and Ella are going to, there’s a Secret Service agent who owes me a favour, and you’re both going over to her house.”

Yawning, Michael sits up. “What’s going on, Cyrus?”

“Someone broke into Susan Ross’s house. She and her daughter are both fine, but right now, there’s no way of telling if the other people involved in the upcoming election are targets or not, and our staff and Mellie’s both are going to be questioned. It’s not either of us, and it damn well better not be anyone else associated with us, but we’ll still be questioned. I’m hoping to keep you and Ella out of it.”

“I’ll get dressed,” Michael mutters.

…

In the hospital, Cyrus sits down next to Tom, and to his grateful surprise, Tom hands over a cup of coffee.

“Thank you.” He takes a few deep sips.

“Is your daughter safe?”

“Yes. I might not be, between my sleep-deprived, annoyed husband and the Secret Service agent whose house was invaded by said husband and Ella at three in the morning, but they are. Please, tell me whoever did this isn’t going to go after any of the other candidates or staff so that, hopefully, they can come home soon.”

“I’m working on in it. Which agent are they staying with?”

“Jameson.”

“She’s good."

“Yeah.” Stretching, Cyrus groans.

“Ambruso didn’t take it well?”

Slumping down, Cyrus answers, “He took it pretty well, actually. Better than James would have. It helps that he truly understands how much this country needs Vargas. At worse, the next time my phone rings in the middle of the night, I might no longer have a phone.”

“Assuming whoever broke in isn’t involved in one of the campaigns, what do you want done?”

“I’ll know the answer when they’re found. Frankie and his wife will be here soon. Secret Service is staying with their son and daughter at home. Go get some sleep. I’ll call you later in the morning.”

“Sir.” Tom leaves.

…

Once the robber, a former Secret Service agent on Susan’s detail who was fired for failing a random drug test, has been put behind bars, Cyrus finds himself trying to avoid going home too early on Friday nights again.

“What made you decide to forgive Ambruso?”

Taking a sip of his drink, Cyrus answers, “Unlike Liv, I’ve never desperately wanted to be a good person. I’ve wanted to be on the right side, and I’ve wanted to be viewed as a good person, but I’ve rarely had attacks of conscience. However, there are some ways I don’t want to be the bad guy.”

“I never really suffered as a kid. Of course, when I was teenager, I wondered what in the hell was wrong with me, why I had to be so fundamentally different, what made me this way, and I lived in fear of someone finding out. The idea of ever touching another man, of having a husband, of having a child with another man- I knew the first might be possible if I was very careful and smart and always had my luck hold out, but being able to simply be who I was, I knew in my heart that would never be an option.”

“Compared to so many, though, that’s not really suffering. I never had suicidal thoughts, and maybe I had some mildly self-destructive tendencies, but it’s not a stereotype to say that most teenagers and very young adults do, too. So many kids are still made to feel that liking this cute boy in science class or this pretty girl in their English class means that they are bad, that there’s inherent ugliness inside of them, that others have the moral right to hurt them for this. That they deserve suffering.”

“Michael was so brave when he was a teenager, braver than I ever would have been, and all it got him was a world that was determined to beat him down. He got to a point where he’d given up on believing being a good person and having any true safety and comfort were mutually exclusive. I tried not to care. I tried to- when I was fully confronted with it, I didn’t want to be the reason he was proven right.”

He rubs his eyes. “Can you comprehend that?”

A shrug is Tom’s answer.

“I do appreciate the fact that, since we started working together, as far as I know, you’ve been honest. How did you get into B6-13, Tom? How and where did Rowan find you?”

“There weren’t baby safe haven laws when I was born,” Tom informs him. “I’m not sure it would have mattered when if there were. Some kid’s iguana found me in a trashcan. I was premature, suffering from an infection, and there were drugs in my system. I was put in a high-risk group home. I didn’t do well around other people, even friendly ones, but I was never violent. I- mild catatonia might be the best description.”

“There was an army base nearby, and at some point, Command started coming by. He- he had a way with me that no else did. When I was ten, he got me transferred to a military academy, and he kept track of my progress.”

Tom looks over, and Cyrus is struck by the look in his eyes. “Eventually, everyone spends time in the hole. It doesn’t matter how good and obedient, it eventually happens. I spent a month. There were moments it got to me, no one could ever spend time in it without it not, but on the whole, I handled it much better than any of the others. Darkness has always been more comforting than light, I like the quiet, and not having to be around people was more of a relief than not.”

“That doesn’t mean I didn’t make sure I never, ever got sent back,” Tom adds.

Cyrus nods.

“Until I met a certain person, I never struggled with- I don’t know what my sexual orientation is. I rarely took an actual interest in anyone, and when I did, there wasn’t a sexual or romantic component to my feelings. I found certain people aesthetically pleasing, and while I realised doing things with them might be nice and interesting, I never had any strong urges. Then, I was put on the Grant campaign, and there was a man who- was there. And made me feel things. I mostly stayed off his radar and kept him on the edges of mine.”

“Was it at all a relief when you watched him get married?”

Clear surprise crosses Tom’s face. “Yes.”

“The reason I’m trying to avoid going home is because there’s a man in Michael’s study group that, if he isn’t, he will be sleeping with soon enough. I don’t want him. I don’t consider this- In some ways, my marriage to Janet was more real than this one. Of course, in some ways, this one is more real than mine with her, but on balance, what she and I had was real. What he and I do isn’t.”

“I- Fitz couldn’t handle it when Mellie was with Andrew, despite his years of being with Olivia. I never thought I’d have any sympathy for his position, but the thought of my husband, even my essentially fake husband who I don’t love, sleeping with someone else is much harder to swallow than I realised it would be.”

“I-I could- I could do something about this classmate,” Tom offers.

“What? No,” Cyrus quickly says. “No. Leave him and anyone he is or will be sleeping with strictly alone, Tom. They, especially him, are all off-limits to you.” He takes a breath. “Unlike Fitz, I’m going to focus on what’s truly important: Giving this country the leader it deserves, not indulging in the confusion that is my own personal life.”

“There isn’t going to be anyone, but if I found myself- I wouldn’t let my marriage stop me. Though, just to be safe, if I stupidly find myself falling for someone, don’t be polite in reminding me that one husband is dead because of me and the other is only my husband because he helped a rival take compromising pictures of me.”

“There are non-prostitutes who could want you simply because you’re you,” Tom comments.

“It’s not your job to try to flatter me.” Looking at his watch, he groans. “Night, Tom.”

“It wasn’t flattery or an attempt at it. Goodnight, Mr Beene.”

…

Cyrus gets home, finds Ella asleep in her bed, and doesn’t find Michael in his.

He does find him in the old room Michael used to sleep in.

“Hey,” Michael greets.

“Is something going on?”

Michael shakes his head.

A large part of Cyrus is tempted to walk away.

Instead, he comes in and sits down on the bed. “Feel free to tell me to mind my-”

“Something happened with Sam. It’s not going to-”

“What happened?”

He left Tom twenty minutes ago. Surely, Tom couldn’t- _B6-13_ flashes through his head.

“Are you both alright?”

Michael makes a small sound. “We kissed. Or- I think he kissed me, but I couldn’t swear to that. There was kissing.”

“Help me out here, Michael,” he orders. “If he hurt you, we can do something. I vote for hiring an untraceable assassin, but since you probably have unreasonable moral objections to that-”

Michael lets out a small chuckle.

“That’s a little better.” Cyrus moves closer. “If he didn’t, what’s the problem? Don’t tell me you were worried about my reaction. Aside from reminding you to be discreet, I’m-”

“We’re married. I think you do know me better by now. This- I know, eventually, we’ll divorce. This isn’t the marriage I dreamed of as a teenager. I’ve done- what you did that night, I have had so much worse. What you did the months afterwards, that was worse. Now, though, I’m free, and I love Ella, and you and I are married. What I did with Philip was trying to get free. For all the times I’ve helped men cheat, when it came to a real relationship, I’d never cheat.”

Sighing, Cyrus wraps an arm around him, in response, Michael puts his head on Cyrus’s shoulder. “The best thing I can tell you is to do what you think, what you feel, is right. You’re young. You haven’t had the freedom to have sex that you’ve chosen solely for yourself in a long time. It might not be a bad idea to give yourself some options in the way of men. But if our marriage truly is a mental block, don’t be with anyone.”

“If it helps, I’ve been in a similar situation,” he admits. “If I’d known nothing had happened between you and Sam, I could have told you something would. It’s not an idea I’m crazy about, but I’m not going to pretend this marriage is something it isn’t. You finding someone you could truly love, who could love you the way you deserve, who might be able to give you a real marriage along with the wedding you’ve been dreaming of since you were teenager, that would be a good thing. I’d be happy for you. Just remember Ella is permanently a part of your life, now, and you need to make sure anyone you’re serious with is good for her.”

Sniffling, Michael says, “Thanks, Cy.” Soon, he moves away and asks, “Ready to go to bed?”

“Sounds good,” Cyrus answers.

…

Coming into the hotel room, Cyrus says, “Tell me you have some aspirin.”

He tugs off his tie, kicks off his sleeves, and undoing his cuff links, he rolls up his sleeves.

“I could get-”

“Never mind,” he mutters. Digging through the minibar, he finds some scotch. “What exactly is wrong with people who choose to join Secret Service? I used to have a genuine respect for those agents. Now, granted, I didn’t understand how, why, or what would compel someone to be willing to take a bullet for someone who they didn’t truly know and whose policies they might vehemently disagree with, because, unlike you, thankfully, most Secret Service aren’t apolitical, but still: admirable.”

“You were B6-13 and killed a kid who trusted you, whose parents trusted you, who you used to play basketball with. Hal liked Jerry, and when she was younger, Karen Grant had him wrapped around her little finger. Which, as far as I know, there’s nothing corrupt or incompetent about Hal, but the two of you were so close. Andrew managed to turn most of Fitz’s detail traitor. Now, just like Susan, we have not one but two agents who failed a drug test. One of them is claiming they ate a sesame seed bagel, and so, an investigation has been launched. The other, it’s clear she’s guilty. It won’t be long until the press gets hold of this.”

Sitting down with a sigh, he finds Tom staring.

Quickly looking away, Tom closes the minibar, puts Cyrus’s shoes by the door, and picks up the discarded tie. “In my case, you’ve answered your own question, sir. I was B6-13. Secret Service agent was a cover. Hal, I liked him, but he was mostly a cover, too. He was friendly and persistent, we worked well together, and having a close friend made me seem more normal.”

Sitting down, Tom continues, “He’s part of the reason it was Jerry instead of Karen. Not the only reason, but not liking the idea of him hearing about her tragic death played a part. When it comes to normal Secret Service agents, we both know there’s a high burnout rate. Some of them, they can be swayed by money, power, or politics,” Tom pointedly says. “The ones Nichols turned, most of them truly believed in him and what he and the war could do for the country over President Grant.”

Finishing, Tom asks, “What do I need to do to help with this?”

“Just because you’re right in the case of Andrew, that does not mean apoliticism should be tolerated in any government employee. And if weren’t for Liv and Fitz going on about non-discriminatory hiring practises and-”

“My presence on the Grant campaign would have been much harder to achieve,” Tom interjects.

The sudden realisation Tom might have floated the request of having Cyrus himself killed, tortured, or otherwise handled causes Cyrus to immediately sober up. He never truly went after Tom, but Tom was one of the ones who had to directly deal with him on occasion.

Cyrus desperately wants some more scotch, but he recognises getting drunk around Tom could be a terrible idea.

“I’m going to call Michael, and then, we get to figure this out,” he says. “Goody.”

…

For a former B6-13 agent, Tom has suddenly sprouted a tendency to be annoyingly logical in objecting to Cyrus’s plans involving killing, torturing, and/or kidnapping the animals and small children of the people who have annoyed him lately.

Despite this, a plan for damage control minus the above is hammered out.

He reaches over for his cuff links, but Tom’s hand on his arm stops him. “It’s past midnight. Michael and Ella are both likely asleep. I’ll take the couch.”

Before Cyrus can protest, Tom is getting a pillow and blanket for the couch and changing into a t-shirt.

It’s unlikely he’ll wake Michael, but Cyrus realises he doesn’t want to have to deal with Michael and Ella in the morning. Michael will likely be concerned and insist on talking, and Ella- will be a little kid. A little kid he loves, but at the moment, he doesn’t want to have to deal with normal people, especially his family, until he has to.

Tom may not exactly understand his frustration, but Tom’s reaction to him genuinely wanting to hurt people who are causing his stress is to help him figure out a way to manage them, not judge him or be horrified or confused as to how a person could be this way.

Going to the bathroom, Cyrus strips down to his undershirt and boxers.

When he comes back out, Tom is stretched out on the couch.

Setting his phone on the nightstand, Cyrus crawls into bed and quickly falls asleep.

…

In the morning, Cyrus buys them breakfast. “Thank you for last night.”

Tom nods.

“Tell me honestly, where does something like last night fall when it came to Rowan?”

“It doesn’t,” Tom answers. “In his way, Command trusted me, but he wasn’t as close to me as he was certain others.”

“That makes sense.”

Based on the brief expression crossing Tom’s face, it doesn’t to him.

“You don’t have to love someone to trust them, and likewise, you can love someone dearly but not be able to trust them,” Cyrus explains. “Ballard and all of Rowan’s other broken boys and girls, he saw parts of himself in them. Parts he liked and parts he didn’t. That made it easier for him to bond with them.  Aside from an ability to compartmentalise and a similar taste in literature, there isn’t much you share personally share in common with him.”

Finishing his breakfast, Tom says, “I wonder what that made Charlie.”

“A reminder to stay on his toes,” Cyrus suggests.

…

At a campaign luncheon, Michael and Frankie are talking about Ella and Ana’s next playdate when Cyrus spots Tom nearby. Seeing the look on his face, Cyrus excuses himself and goes over.

“I’d like to hear that Rowan didn’t get to my latest pick for Ballard’s soon-to-be replacement, but I get the feeling you’re going to tell me otherwise.”

“Yes and no.” Tom hands a folder over. “He left this one alone.”

Looking at the pictures, Cyrus immediately sees why. “Well, I can’t do anything about it today. My daughter threatened to call the President of the United States if Michael and I didn’t let her ride her bicycle around the neighbourhood by herself. Obviously, there were some things I didn’t think through when I accepted Fitz’s invitation to be her godfather.”

Mixed in with the amusement, respect, and sudden fear of his barely five-year-old girl who insists she’s big enough to go bike riding by herself is sadness at the thought of James- More than anything, Cyrus wishes James were here to be horrified and proud and likely find a way to blame this on Cyrus’s parenting.

Laughing, Tom asks, “See you on Wednesday?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Tom.”

He goes back over to Michael and the others.

…

After the luncheon is over and they put a sleeping Ella in a car with the Vargas kids so she and Sara can go bike riding after naptime, Cyrus and Michael wait for their own car to come around, and Michael says, “Uh, that, um, man you were talking to earlier, I don’t think I recognised him.”

“He’s an independent contractor. Good at his job, but otherwise, no one important.”

“I wouldn’t tell him that until after he finished whatever job he’s doing.”

Laughing, Cyrus points out, “I think that falls under the category of just common sense.”

“Military or secret service?”

“Both. Or he was Navy, joined the Secret Service afterwards, and resigned shortly after Fitz’s assassination attempt. He was right there that night, one of the ones responsible for getting Fitz into the limo, and he handled it pretty well, but- that sort of thing-” He offers.

“That makes sense.” Squeezing Cyrus’s hand, Michael asks, “You were there that night, too, weren’t you?”

“Unfortunately.” He remembers Hal insisting on standing guard despite his own injuries and how, at one point, he’d been worried Tom might actually swipe some drugs, drug Hal, and order a nurse or doctor to do a more thorough check-up than the cursory one Hal had allowed and find a private room to stow Hal in once any necessary treatment had been administered.

Feeling himself smiling at the memory, he concentrates on not.

“For all of our sakes, try not to get into a situation like that again, okay?”

“It wasn’t my fault,” Cyrus points out. “Besides, Tom’s job now is along the lines of information gathering and helping to facilitate deals, not protecting me or anyone else from bodily harm.”

“Tom? That’s his name?” 

“Yeah. Tom Larsen.”

The car pulls up.

“But he would, and it’d affect him just as much, if not more, than that night did. I saw the look in his eyes. You’re his weakness, Cy,” Michael says with a clear tinge of sadness in his tone.

Unnerved, Cyrus feels everything shifting inside him.

…

As soon as he’s in the hotel room, Cyrus takes a breath. “What happened to this man you were pinning after?”

“Nothing? I mean, he’s still alive, sir. Still living his life.”

“I knew that. I meant, you’re not B6-13, anymore. You said his marriage didn’t last. Did you ever try something? Or are there reasons you haven’t?”

“He remarried,” Tom quietly answers, and Cyrus- Tom briefly glanced at Cyrus’s wedding ring, and Cyrus is aware this is a detail he never would have paid any heed to before.

He’s still not sure he _should_.

“And that marriage lasted?”

“So far,” is the simple response.

“Is it the marriage itself or something else that makes that your answer?”

“If Command had ordered me to seduce a happily married person, I would have. I wouldn’t on my own. But-” Tom considers his words. “If I wanted someone, and they wanted me back, I wouldn’t feel guilty if they were cheating with me. I didn’t make any promises to whoever they’re with. I’d know better than to expect them to be faithful to me.”

“And if a person wasn’t cheating with you and wanted faithfulness between the two of you?”

“I’d be faithful.”

“What if they weren’t?”

“I don’t know,” Tom answers. “Not everyone keeps their word in matters of the heart. All I know for certain is that I don’t make promises I don’t have every intention of keeping.”

Seeing being on this familiar ground has eased most of the tightness in how Tom has been holding himself, Cyrus asks, “Who is he, Tom?”

Shaking his head, Tom says, “I won’t lie to you, but I reserve the right to refuse to answer certain questions. That was never part of our deal.”

“It’s not Hal. He’s never been married. I wondered if he might be Fitz, but that’s unlikely; he was married long before the Grant campaign started. You can tell me about him without giving a name. So, tell me, Tom, about this man you can’t have.”

Moving away, Tom presses against the wall. “Why? Would it make you feel better about not being able to have James Novak?”

Cyrus laughs. “That’s interesting. You opened this door, Tom. Either you were sure I’d never ask these questions, or you were hoping I would. Whichever, you have to deal with the fact I am now.”

Giving him a startled look, Tom’s eyes change in a flash, and Cyrus is no longer uncertain. He knows.

“How- Your husband. Earlier, he was watching. How could he possibly-” Tom sounds so offended and confused, Cyrus feels a little insulted on Michael’s behalf.

“Michael used to be a high-class escort. He was good at his job. He often knows how to tell when someone is law enforcement, military, or something along those lines just by looking at them, and he’s good at reading people, especially men with secret desires.”

Exuding the air of utter defeat, Tom asks, “What happens now?”

“Now? I don’t know,” Cyrus admits. “You answering some questions so that I can try to figure this out would be appreciated.”

Another change comes over Tom, and scoffing, he strides over. “Insecurity doesn’t look good on you, Cyrus, and you don’t need anyone else to stroke your ego. You know. Now either tell me to leave, tell me you’ll see me on Wednesday and go home to your husband and daughter, or want the same thing I do and give it to me and let me give it to you.”

“Do I know? You haven’t-” He trails off at Tom’s look.

“The answer is you. Cyrus Rutherford Beene. The first time I saw you, I was upstairs at the Grant ranch. I looked out the window, and you were talking to Ms Pope. You had an ill-suited beard, and your eyes were sharp. I couldn’t make out the colour from there, just that you were a lot like Command.”

“You, Governor Grant, and Ms Pope caused literal headaches in some of the agents on the governor’s detail. It didn’t take long at all for me to see you were a kingmaker. I knew before, but one night, I walked into a room, and you were kissing James Novak. You didn’t even know my name, but I made it clear it wasn’t my business, that you didn’t need to worry about some Secret Service agent who just wanted to do his job knowing.”

Cyrus remembers that night well.

“I was put in charge of arranging security for your wedding, because, even though you wouldn’t let President Grant be your best man, you couldn’t stop him from coming. And I watched you marry James, and it hurt. I was a good B6-13 agent, though. I don’t know if you even remember or registered it, but afterwards, I shook both of your hands.”

“I do," Cyrus says. "You congratulated me on my marriage, and I don’t remember the exact words, but you wished me happiness. I remember how struck I was by your sincerity. Part of me had been so afraid, but there you and so many people were, genuinely wishing me well.”

Making a small sound, Tom nods. “Years later, you and he adopted Ella. I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t let myself think much about it one way or another. Then, he was killed, and one day, her nanny brought her into the White House. You were sitting on the floor of your office with her, and at one point, you put her in your lap, and that’s when it truly hit me. You have a daughter.”

“I was too busy with the war involving Command, Ballard, and President Grant to see when Michael Ambruso came into the picture. I don’t know what I would have done if I had. The one good thing about prison was I didn’t have to see you marry someone else.”  

“You really don’t know how many times you personally made things difficult for me,” Tom continues. “I don’t know what Hal knew or thought, but when you had that heart attack, he was more worried about me than you. I wanted to punch Charlie when he drugged Novak and brought you to Command in his trunk, and until then, I’d never wanted to punch anyone.”

Cyrus laughs. “You and I aren’t normal, are we, Tom?”

Smiling, Tom shakes his head. 

Tentatively, Cyrus reaches up and touches Tom’s cheek.

…

It’s been a long time since Cyrus simply traded kisses with someone.

Along the way, he and Tom have both ended up in just their underwear and on the bed, and Tom has started branching out with his kisses, but so far, it hasn’t gone farther.

“Can you stay the night?”

“Yes,” he answers.

Based on the noise Tom makes, he’s happy to hear this.

Knowing where Tom’s hand is heading, he wraps his hand around Tom’s wrist. “I haven’t been with Michael since before the wedding.”

Looking at him with soft eyes, Tom responds, “Really? Based on some of the things you’ve said, I assumed-” He pauses.

“Michael sleeps better if there’s someone beside him at night, and I don’t mind sharing my bed, but that’s all. If- I believe in fidelity. Michael and I need to stay married right now, but if you and I are together, it has to just be you and me.”

“You’re all I want, Cyrus.”

…

Ella is playing outside when Cyrus gets home.

“Hey. Saved you some breakfast,” Michael says.

“Thank you.”

They sit down, and eating, he waits.

“You were with Tom last night, weren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Right,” Michael says. “This isn’t- Here’s your warning: No matter what, I will always try to protect Ella, but you? You won’t have me in your corner if this turns bad. If I have to, I will go against you for her sake. So- Be sure this is something you really want to do before you do it. And whatever you do, don’t hurt him, Cyrus. He’s not like me, and that must be part of why you like him. From I’ve seen, he is in love with you. You hurt him, I don’t think you’re going to be able to handle things like you did with me.”

“I understand.”

“Good.” Michael starts to get up.

“Michael. Wait.”

Sighing, Michael sits fully back down.

“You’re a good person. I’d be lucky and underserving to have a husband like you. I like him, because, he’s like me. He’s not someone I’d want helping to raise my daughter. There’s a reason I won’t let Ella see Beauty and the Beast and why, for all I hate what your parents did to you, I’ll agree that you father is right letting you watch it is probably part of the reason you’re- you. Not the gay part, obviously, but if we were real, I would end up hurting you all over again. That is who I am. People like me do not fundamentally change.”

“Now, anyone can be a victim, but people like Tom, they don’t stay- Well, maybe, they do. But when they’ve finally come to that breaking point, they don’t end up crying on their fake wedding and begging the person who’s tortured them for months to please give a few crumbs of empathy and compassion. They make the person who made them feel like that wish that neither of them were ever born.”

Giving him a sad smile, Michael shakes his head, gets up, and goes outside.

…

Frankie being dead wouldn’t be good, but at this point-

“Maybe we don’t have to vet anyone else, because, maybe, I already know all there is to know about the man I want as my Vice-President.”

“Sir, let me make the call,” he begs. “Whoever this man is- If Rosen turns out to be a mistake, which, I truly don’t believe he will, Fitz has set the precedent for VPs being replaceable. We can find someone different after you’re elected, if we need to, and we can do the proper vetting. Even with the new precedent, I don’t think three different VPs is ever going to swing unless-”

“You, Cyrus. I want you to be my Vice-President.”

“What?”

This is obviously a flight of fancy, is his thought on the matter, and he tries to hurriedly deconstruct it so that he can get to Rosen before Rowan can.

Then, he realises, no, the idealistic, genuinely principled man he’s worked tirelessly to rise up truly wants this.

His brief elation at such thoughts is quickly brought to a halt, and he weighs everything and finds himself thinking, No, making the President of the United States, giving the country such a man, is enough.

Sighing, he closes the door and focuses on Frankie’s confused face. “Sir, I’ve been having an affair.”

“What?”

“Michael knows,” he continues. “He isn’t happy about it, but- he knows. Him and I marrying, it had to do with the photos, of course, it did. I’m sorry if you were one of the people who genuinely bought the love story. But when I was in the White House, there was another person working there. I didn’t pay much attention to him. Even if I hadn’t been in love with my husband, with James, and felt very strongly about my vows of fidelity, I simply wouldn’t have had much reason to pay personal attention to this man. Eventually, he left to pursue other options, and when I started working on your campaign, we met up again.”

Looking closely at him, Frankie says, “And now, you’re in love.”

Everything shifts around inside Cyrus.

“I- James was the love of my life. I value this relationship enough that I’m asking you, again, let me call Rosen. Being Vice-President would be a great honour, but it’d also mean giving up what I have with this person. Rosen’s young and single. A lot of people are hoping he and Susan will get back together, but people would be more comfortable with an unmarried heterosexual man than a three-times married gay man whose second husband is an ex-prostitute. Add in the affair, and that’s just asking too much.”

There’s silence.

“And you’re honest,” Frankie declares.

Coming over, he puts his hand on Cyrus’s shoulder. “I believe in greater transparency. When I’m President, I’m going to fulfil my promise of giving more of that to the American people. Despite what Senator Grant keeps trying to sell, my strong views on right to privacy doesn’t contradict this. People have a right to know what deals their elected officials are making with foreign leaders, what our salaries are used for, and to a certain extent, how we treat the people around us. They don’t have a right to every single thing about our personal lives.”

“Obviously, you’re good at being discreet, and while I feel bad for Michael, he’s made the choice to accept this. You married a woman, because, that was something expected of you. You lost a husband you loved dearly, and in your grief, you did something you never would have done under normal circumstances, and out of that, you married a man you do care about. As for precedent, President Grant has shown it’s possible to marry someone with a true heart and the best of intentions and still find yourself experiencing strong feelings for someone that you wish you’d met or gotten to know properly first. Is any of this inaccurate?”

“Well- no, but-” He laughs slightly. “Should I start being afraid of you thinking like a politician, sir? Because that, that right there was you talking like one brilliantly.”

Frankie squeezes his shoulder. “That was my way of saying you aren’t calling Rosen. I am not going to let you say no, Cy. I want you by my side. I need you. America needs you. So, what do you say, Cy?”

…

At the hotel room, Cyrus comes in, kisses Tom, and says, “You aren’t going to believe what just happened. Rosen isn’t going to be Frankie’s VP.”

Sighing, Tom asks, “What do we need to do?”

“Well, for starters, I was thinking we could celebrate the fact America is about to have its first openly gay VP.”

…

Later, Tom runs his fingers through Cyrus’s hair. “Is Michael going to be problem?”

“No. He wants the best for Ella. Her being the Vice-President’s daughter- and in addition, him being husband to the VP will do a lot for him. Plus, he believes in all Frankie and I have been doing.”

“Good.” Wrapping around him, Tom kisses his neck. “Then, stay here tonight. You can talk to him tomorrow.”

Reaching up, Cyrus squeezes his hand.

Sleep skirts around the edges, but unable to fully embrace it, he finds himself saying, “I didn’t give him your name, but I told Frankie I’ve been with someone other than Michael. He thinks we’re in love.”

“Well, one of us is,” Tom sleepily murmurs. Pressing closer, he continues, “And in your case, Michael gets to wear your ring and sleep in your bed, but you haven’t been with anyone, not even him, but me.”

Feeling Tom’s breathing fully even out, Cyrus lets sleep overtake him, too.

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Notes: Unfortunately, I don't know the title of either poem Tom referenced or where I found them, but credit to whoever wrote them.


End file.
